


Thursday's Downpour

by AshAuditore



Series: Kuroo Week 2020 [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coffee Shops, Consensual Sex, Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, Mentioned Iwaizumi Hajime, Rain, Slice of Life, Slight UshiIwa/IwaUshi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:48:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25977715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshAuditore/pseuds/AshAuditore
Summary: When it rains, it pours. Will it stop, who knows?Kuroo makes his way to a café, where his boyfriend works as a barista. And as a means to escape from a sudden storm that puts him and the whole city into a complete halt.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Ushijima Wakatoshi, Kuroo Tetsurou/Sawamura Daichi
Series: Kuroo Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1884220
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53
Collections: Kuroo Week 2020





	Thursday's Downpour

**Author's Note:**

> Second entry for Day 2 of Kuroo Week 2020 -> Coffee Shop AU + Rain.

Heaven pours down onto Earth, going against all the forecasts made by the meteorologists. _Sunny, with a light breeze and mild heat_ was the prediction. It’s a Thursday evening, the eve of the first day of a national holiday, when dark grey Cumulonimbus and Nimbostratus clouds start to form in the skies. The populace of the metropolis look up with disappointment and frustration, with a shared common knowledge that traffic will be hell to bear with. 

In the time span of one hour, the city is completely blanketed with heavy rain, thunder, lightning and strong winds. Those without umbrellas or ponchos make do with their own makeshift ways. Bright, eye-popping commercials on huge screens loop and loop, acting almost like a light to guide a lost person’s way. 

Major train stations cease their operations due to overflowing. Bad luck, some would say. It’s just nature, others would say. Tetsurou Kuroo disagrees with both. He’s five stations away from where he needs to be. 

The only method left is to brave the storm. Right as he exits the station, fierce wind and harsh raindrops hurriedly welcome him to their stage. 

He uses his newly-bought black synthetic leather briefcase as a shelter for his head. It comes very close to helping him, but such is the nature of a bag to not be used in this way. His once, attractive spiky hair turns into a pile of confusing, rain-soaked mess. 

Kuroo is completely drenched, from top to bottom. He’s even certain his phone might even be damaged in some ways from all the dampness seeping through. There’s a place he has to be that might just be able to provide him protection from this horrible weather.  
  
Strings of curse words explode under his breath, as he staggers along the shoe-level flooded streets. Not a single piece of clothing on his body is made to battle hard rain and the rising water level. 

He picks up his pace, akin to that of running, after crossing the street for the fourth or fifth time. Each step, he inches closer to not only where he needs to be — but where he desires to be. A left turn and a straight walk to near the end of the sidewalk, and he’s now at the location. 

A moderate-sized café, painted in deep blue and sandwiched between two slightly higher buildings, awaits for his presence inside it. In the front, wide stairs built from pale, orange bricks come in four steps to provide assistance for its guests. The water, still rising, is making its way to consume the first step. 

Kuroo gets onto the steps and enters the shop to find—

—it is packed to the brim with persons in need of shelter from rain. Just like him. 

His pair of hazel eyes scan the shop, looking for the person he is acquainted with. It’s the reason he’s even here at all. That, and because his apartment isn’t just worth the effort to reach it during this city-wide peril. 

Chatters of the others, both in person and through cell phones, engulf the entire place in a sea of noises—teetering back-and-forth at being almost too loud and bearably noisy. 

Ringing of mobiles, laughing, clapping of hands, the tweets of a 140-character opinion being sent out to the world, the whooshes of emails being replied, the hissing of the steam from the coffee machine, the loud-whirring roar of the smoothie blender. 

Piercing through it all, a voice shouts out his name: **Tetsurou! Tetsurou! Over here!**

Kuroo pivots to the source of the sound. A smile of relief forms on his face upon seeing the person vocalizing out to him. A couple of “excuse me” and “sorry, coming through” and he finds himself at the edge of the drink counter. All the stools were taken, occupied by those who came before him. 

At least, there’s still a spot to put his arms on. 

A barista in a neon-orange apron, sporting short dark hair and handsome brown eyes, says hello to him with the widest smile Kuroo has seen all day long. He puts his bag down, his hands tired from carrying it over his head all the way here. 

With the same hands, he combs his hair to untangle the state of disarray. It’s still not as good-looking as when he stepped out of the flat this morning, but he won’t have to deal with strands of hair blocking his view of the barista. 

“Daichi, _god_ , so fucking good to see you,” Kuroo announces; drops of rain drip over from the tip of his hair. Daichi notices it, and resolves the problem with his clean small, white towel acquired from the mini cabinet underneath the counter. 

He dries Kuroo as much as he can, chuckling along as Kuroo wouldn’t stop looking right at him. Daichi is defenseless whenever Kuroo does it. He welcomes it, wholeheartedly. 

“Better?” Daichi asks, throwing away the towel into a bamboo basket with a lid to join it with the rest of the used towels—waiting to be washed. 

“Much better, babe,” Kuroo replies. He would’ve kissed the man right at the first instant he saw him. Though, it’s still work hours and any declaration of love isn’t necessarily encouraged. Both of them know of this fact, waiting with eagerness for the hours to end. 

More importantly, for the rain to be over. 

“I’ll get back to you in a bit. I have, like, three cups of coffee to make,” Daichi states, also adding that he’s terribly sorry for the lack of seats. He goes back to do what he’s good at: making coffee and tea. The way Daichi moves astonishes Kuroo every single time. It’s a mix of surgical-level precision, with care and confidence. 

No wonder they have near-unanimous, five-star ratings on most food review sites. 

It’s worth noting to appreciate other staff who work there. One of them, silent and straightforward with matching colors of eyes and hair of dark olive-brown, is an expert on waffles and sandwiches—especially pulled-pork paninis. 

If memory serves Kuroo well, the man is Wakatoshi Ushijima. Daichi brought him over to his place some time ago to do a little cooking for fun. 

Ushijima seems to be completely focused on his tasks. He gives Kuroo a quick nod of acknowledgement when he notices him. Kuroo nods back. 

With three cups done and served, Daichi is back. He takes a sip of water from a tiny paper cup, crushing it with little force after finishing and disposing it. Sighs of relief escape his mouth. 

“It’s still raining, jeez,” Kuroo says, annoyed. Daichi extends his hand, grabbing Kuroo’s to hold in his. Warm and soothing, is the touch of Daichi.

“It’ll pass,” Daichi reaffirms, patting Kuroo by his right cheek. “What do you say, I stay a night at your place? If you’re not against it, Tetsu.” 

_Tetsu_. Daichi is the only one who calls him that. 

“I would very much love to have you with me. Got a boat in here?” Kuroo jokes, smirking. Daichi lets out a minuscule laugh. No one makes him giggle quite like Kuroo. 

“No, but I have a couple pairs of boots. I’m kinda sure Ushijima has a car that’s flood-ready.” 

In disbelief and surprise, Kuroo inquires. “Since when?”  
  
“A month ago. I guess that’s what he has been saving up his money for.” 

“Fuckin-A, Wakatoshi. Good-thinking.” 

Daichi blurts out, offering Kuroo a free, hot drink. “On the house,” he remarks. Kuroo denies it, emphasizing that he has enough money to buy for just one cup.

The love of his life, ready to make a cup just for him, asks what he’d like to have. Kuroo glances over to the blackboard attached on the wall. The menu is handwritten, likely by Daichi and Ushijima. The headings of each section are in beautiful, perfect cursive. 

Kuroo decides it’ll be hot Oolong tea, with two cubes of sugar he’ll be adding later. Getting to work right away, Daichi grabs a tea cup and pours steaming hot water in it to mid-level. Not too much, not too little. 

He waits for the water to cool down a bit. Tea isn’t particularly good when consumed right away. It’ll burn your tongue and worsen the tea-drinking experience. 

The temperature in the cup lowers to where Daichi prefers it to be, prompting him to slide a bag of Oolong tea into it—with caution. The tea bag sits still on the floor of the cup. 

He serves it to Kuroo, announcing it as if he would to any other customers of equal importance. But with a little touch of his wink in it. 

There’s glad in his words, when Kuroo thanks Daichi for the tea. He moves the bag up and down, placing the bag on the saucer and putting in the sugar cubes. Stir and stir, a vortex is formed—pulling the melted sugar deeper down.

Kuroo takes a sip or two. It tastes exactly how he had envisioned it to be. 

Fondness in his gaze, he converses more with Daichi of the things they could and would be doing tonight. Kuroo suggests watching a movie, mainly one the pair hasn’t finished watching. The last time, Daichi dozed off; his head lying right on Kuroo’s shoulder. Whispering, Kuroo talked to the dream-wandering Daichi how cute he was. 

They talk, laugh, and give each other expressions of longing and craving. Their hands locked around each other, sometimes with one of them opening up their palm for the other to trace the lines on it. 

“Tets—” Daichi is interrupted by a sudden blackout. The whole café screams in shock and disbelief. Ushijima rushes out to the back of the restaurant. A few minutes pass by and _let there be light_. The emergency light system lights from each corner of the dining area, in a total of four spots. Ushijima emerges from the shadow, into the light. The patrons clap their hands in unison, thanking him. 

“Thank you, Wakatoshi,” Daichi compliments, giving him a thumbs-up. 

“No problem,” Ushijima replies, going back to his spot behind the counter. 

One unfortunate happenstance: the air-conditions stopped working. Temporarily dead. The coffee machine, the blender and the sandwich maker all suffered the same fate. 

People lower their voices, making the world beyond the entrance door more audible to them. Wind and rain take the reign of being the loudest. A kid sitting nearest to the window spots lightning, coming in streaks. He counts _one, two, three, four_ , and stops—that’s when a thunderous roar screeches. 

A four-second interval, the kid notes, writing it down in his journal. 

“It’s gonna be pretty humid in here soon and we don’t have a fan. Awful,” Daichi laments. He gives Kuroo a “heh” of “I’m sorry, babe.” 

Kuroo sips and sips, draining the cup dry. He clears his throat, and leans close to Daichi—their faces close enough for a kiss. Not yet. _Not yet._

Speaking in a hushed tone, Kuroo says, “it’s alright, Daichi. Listen, I don’t wanna sound all gloom and doom but I feel like we’re gonna be stuck here for a while. So, how about we...fuck?” 

In his early days with Kuroo, there'd be a small blush and a soft hit from the back of his hand to any side of Kuroo's arms. They ended up fucking, anyway. 

Experiences give way to growth and new opportunities in life. The same can be said with sexual intercourses between the couple. They have come a long way from a simple missionary, to much more complex (but still within safety) positions. 

Daichi’s favorite is cowboy. His body trembles, shaking in ecstasy from receiving Kuroo’s uncut cock pumping inside him. His length bounces against another’s abdomen. Tricky, lustful fingers travel to Daichi’s pecs, entertaining themselves by making contact with the nipples. Push and pull, at the right force. 

Kuroo has a particular taste in doggy, extra when he switches and lets Daichi fucks him. They have similar lengths, but Daichi is girthier. He’s so turned on from just hearing Daichi moans out his name. _Tetsu...Tetsu...Tetsu..._

Muttering back, Daichi agrees to do so. “There’s a spot, in here, that we can use. It’s in the back. A bit small, but it works.” He adds, “you know, Wakatoshi might be like he’s on celibacy but he’s not. Not when I heard him saying _Iwaizumi_ with a fiery passion.” 

“How big is he?” Kuroo queries, taking off the tie around his neck. It’s getting hotter, uglily. The customers pick up objects they carry with them to use as stand-in fans. 

“How am I supposed to know that, Tetsu?” Daichi answers, with a hint of playful anger. Kuroo apologizes, sincere with a cocked eyebrow and a wink. 

Daichi shakes his head, not in disappointment, but gratefulness. 

Kuroo backs away from Daichi a bit to unbutton the first two buttons of his shirt. “Tell me when you want to do it, ‘kay?” 

The latter can clearly see some parts of the collarbone and the chest, exposed for him to see. To indulge in. 

Decisions, decisions. _Hmm, they’d still be here for some time too_ , Daichi ponders. He breaks away for a second to tell Ushijima he and Kuroo would be “occupied” for the next hour or so. 

Ushijima understands, nodding back. “You need condoms?” he quizzes, deadpan face focusing right at Daichi. 

Taken aback by what he hears, Daichi politely declines. He has some on himself, tucked inside his wallet—carrying their sizes and preferred “flavors”.

Ushijima wishes Daichi a good luck, or fuck—or both. 

Taking off his apron, Daichi hangs it on the mini clothes hanger attached to the wall. He dresses in a black polo shirt; a cartoon crow patched onto the chest pocket on the left side, and faded jeans. 

He grabs Kuroo by his hand, leading him. It’s always a good time to be holding hands. 

Kuroo follows Daichi closely, brimming with excitement. He doesn’t even have to worry about his bag. Ushijima would have a pretty good idea how to take care of it, despite him not telling the man about it. 

The pair disappears into darkness. Their phones light up the way. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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